


Blind Date

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Series: Dr. Rogers and the Klutzy Coffee Shop Owner [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Blind Date, Boring Date, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:20:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25351531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: Natasha sets you up on a blind date but things don’t go as planned.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Dr. Rogers and the Klutzy Coffee Shop Owner [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835902
Comments: 15
Kudos: 103





	Blind Date

“I don’t understand, explain it to me again,” you mumbled. “It’s _not_ a blind date?”

“It is a blind date, but it’s like, extreme blind dating,” Natasha explained. “You let the Blind Date app do the work. All you do is show up at the designated restaurant and find the guy with the rose.”

“But I don’t know his name, what he does, what he looks like, nothing?” 

“Nope, not a thing.”

“It sounds a little sketchy. Are you sure this app isn’t run by serial killers? It sounds like it should be called “Find Your Next Victim” or something,” you muttered.

“It’s supposed to be like old school blind dates, you know? Like when your Aunt Rose told you she knew a ‘nice boy with a great personality’ -”

“AKA, he lives in his mom’s basement and can’t find a date on his own,” you interrupted.

“Look, Y/N, I’m just trying to help,” Nat sighed. “You haven’t had a date in months. You’ve been sitting around here hoping that Dr. What’s-His-Name from the hospital will show up and sweep you off your feet and I’m getting sick of watching you pining for someone who probably doesn’t even remember your name.”

“He gave me his number -”

“Which you left in your pocket and washed,” Nat snapped, obviously exasperated with you. “And you’re too afraid to go to the hospital and ask for him, and he hasn’t come to the shop. It’s been more than a month, Y/N, it’s time to move on. Just...just go on this date and see if you like the guy. That’s all I’m asking. I’m tired of seeing you moping around.”

“Fine,” you grumbled. “But if I end up on the six o’clock news you have no one to blame but yourself.”

“I’ll teach you some moves before you go,” Nat grinned. “You’ll be able to kick ass.”

* * *

You straightened your skirt and took a deep breath. You could do this. It was just a couple of hours out of your life. Maybe, if you were lucky, you would end up meeting a decent guy. At least you’d get Nat off your back.

You yanked open the door and stepped into the restaurant. A couple of minutes later you were sliding into your seat across from a not-bad-looking guy in his mid-30’s whose name was Todd. Things started off okay, drinks and appetizers went off without a hitch and Todd seemed nice enough, though he was a little boring and you didn’t have very much in common; he claimed he wasn’t much for movies or reading or even watching TV. That made conversation a little difficult, though you gave it your best shot. But he wasn’t giving off any serial killer vibes, so that was a plus.

Then you asked him what he did for a living.

A wide smile spread across Todd’s face and he seemed to almost vibrate in anticipation. “Oh, you are gonna love this,” he laughed. “I’m a taxidermist.”

You nearly choked on your drink. You set the glass down and put what you hoped was an accepting smile on your face. “I’m sorry, you’re a what?”

“A taxidermist. I stuff and mount animals in lifelike scenarios,” he explained helpfully.

“Oh, um, okay,” you murmured. “I wouldn’t think there was much need for that in the city -”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Todd laughed. “I get a lot of business stuffing people’s pets.”

“Wow,” you murmured. “Pets, huh?”

“You would be surprised how many people want to stuff their pets after they die,” Todd said. “I mean, I get some hunters, but I get more pets than anything.”

“So, uh, how did you get into, um, taxidermy?” you asked, trying to be polite.

“Now that is a funny story.” Todd then launched into a lengthy description of his job, how he’d gotten started, the ins and outs of stuffing people’s pets, even the how-to, including pictures he had stored on his phone. Graphic pictures. By the time your food arrived, you’d lost your appetite.

And it turns out, it wasn’t really a funny story. It was boring and slightly nauseating, but not funny.

You smiled politely as he talked, and you did your best not to look too closely at the pictures that Todd kept sticking in your face. You pushed your food around the plate and sipped your wine attempting, but failing to tune out what he was saying. You wondered how long you would have to sit here and pretend that you were enjoying yourself and that you were interested in Todd’s chosen profession. This blind date had taken a turn toward bad.

Todd signaled the waiter to order dessert and you took the opportunity to excuse yourself for a minute. You hurried across the restaurant and ducked into the bathroom. You pulled your phone from your purse and sent a bunch of eye-rolling and angry face emojis to Nat. She didn’t even have the decency to answer you.

Exasperated with not only your best friend but also with the blind date gone bad, you turned on your heel and stomped out of the bathroom, slamming your hands against the door and shoving it open. Almost immediately, you heard a muffled grunt and cursing.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled, stepping around the door and running right into Dr. Rogers. “Oh, shit, hi!”

Well, that was lame. You pop the guy in the nose with a door and then you say ‘hi’ like nothing happened. Smooth.

Steve’s eyes widened and a smile spread across his face, albeit a pained one. “Y/N, hi,” he said, his voice muffled thanks to his hand over face. “What are you doing here? Besides hitting me in the face with the door?”

“I’m on a date,” you explained. “The most boring date ever, but a date. You?”

Steve pulled his hand away from his face and glanced at his hand. He groaned, held up the hand not covering his nose, and ducked into the bathroom. A few seconds later he came back out, grinning, his nose a little bit red and his upper lip looked a swollen, but hopefully none the worse for wear.

“I’m really, really sorry,” you repeated. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll survive,” he shrugged. “So, you said you were on a date? Oddly enough, so am I.”

“Yeah, but are you hiding in the bathroom from yours?” you laughed.

“Actually, yes,” he chuckled.

“No way. So, what’s wrong with your date?”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with mine if you tell me what’s wrong with yours,” Steve replied.

“Mine? For starters, he’s boring. And he’s a taxidermist who apparently loves talking about his job. And sharing pictures of that job.” A shudder raced through you. “Okay, your turn.”

“My date says she’s in telecommunications. She’s...how do I put this nicely? She’s a bit touchy-feely. As in pawing me every thirty seconds and dropping hints that she is very open to doing anything on a first date. And she does mean anything.”

“That normally doesn’t bother most men,” you said.

“It bothers me,” Steve shrugged. “I don’t usually go on blind dates but my buddy Sam found this app -”

“The Blind Date App?” you asked.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Wait, is that…?”

“Yep,” you laughed. “Thanks to Natasha.”

Steve leaned closer and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

“Now?” you whispered back. “Like, ditch our dates?”

Steve nodded and that was all it took. You hiked your purse up on your shoulder and held out your hand. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later you were climbing out of a cab in front of the coffee shop you owned with Natasha with Steve arriving just a few seconds after you. You unlocked the door and ushered him inside. You stepped behind the counter, put your purse on the shelf, and quickly made two cups of coffee. While you brewed the coffee, Steve wandered around the shop, looking at the variety of coffees and teas you served and the different merchandise you carried.

“This place is great,” he said, sliding into a seat at the counter.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. Now that the two of you were alone, you had no idea what to say.

Steve crossed his arms and leaned on the counter. “You never called me.”

“I was wondering if you were going to ask me about that,” you sighed. “Would you believe me if I said I lost your number?”

“Maybe,” Steve chuckled.

“I did, sort of,” you laughed, shaking your head. “I put the napkin in my pocket, forgot to take it out of my pocket, and then I washed it. I swear.”

“Why do I feel like you do stuff like that a lot?”

“Because I do,” you replied. “I trip over stuff, I run my bike into curbs, I have a permanent case of the dropsies, I leave stuff in my pants pockets when I do laundry, and I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached. I am a klutz.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in the ER sooner,” Steve laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh, I’ve been there plenty of times,” you said. “Not sure how you missed me.” You poured Steve a cup of coffee and slid it across the counter. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Two sugars, no cream.” 

Once the coffee was poured, you stepped around the counter and settled into the seat beside Steve.

“I really can’t believe we ran into each other,” you said.

“Well, you ran into me,” Steve smirked. “With the door.”

“Oh, you’ve got jokes. Funny.”

“So, this klutziness? Does that extend to the people around you? Should I expect to be getting hit with a lot of doors in the future?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Oh, so you’re seeing a future between us?” You hoped that’s what he meant.

“Well, two failed blind dates,” Steve said, turning in his seat to face you. “On the same night at the same restaurant. Fate or coincidence?”

“I’d like to think it’s fate,” you smiled. “What do _you_ think?”

“Fate,” Steve nodded. “I lost you once but I was lucky enough to find you again.” He cleared his throat and smiled. “You know, I went on that date tonight because Sam kept telling me I was stupid to sit around waiting for you to call me. After a few weeks, I figured he was right and I let him set me up on that app. I guess I’ll have to call him and thank him.”

“Thank him for what exactly?” you asked.

“Thank him for making me go.” He pushed his cup aside and leaned closer to you. “If I hadn’t been there we wouldn’t have run into each other and I wouldn’t be sitting here drinking coffee with you. And I am very, _very_ grateful for that.”

“Oh, yeah?” you whispered. “Even though I hit you with the door?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Even though you hit me with the door.”

You opened your mouth to say something else, but you were cut off by Steve’s hand dropping to your waist and him ducking his head to brush a kiss across your lips. It was a soft, sweet kiss, the kind of kiss that made you want more without any pressure from him at all. You leaned into it, your hand resting lightly on the back of his neck. It was over far too soon.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I fixed your head,” he grinned, brushing his thumb across the spot on your head that had hit the curb.

“Because you thought I was cute,” you said.

“Yes, I did,” he chuckled. “I, uh, I hope that was okay. The kiss, I mean?”

“Definitely okay.”

Steve sat back, though he kept his large, warm hand on your waist. “How about I take you to dinner? I’m off on Sunday. What do you say?”

“I’d love that,” you replied. “As long as you promise not to talk about taxidermy in any way, shape, or form.”

“I promise,” he laughed. “Now, can I kiss you again?”

“Yes, please,” you nodded.

As you leaned into Steve, two legs of your stool came off the ground and before you knew what was happening, the stool was sliding out from underneath you and you were falling forward, your face headed directly for Steve’s crotch. A startled squeak came out of you and you squeezed your eyes closed, the end of your relationship with Steve quickly approaching before it even began.

A pair of strong hands caught you under the arms and dragged you to your feet. You opened one eye and peeked at Steve.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

Steve wrapped his arms around you and rested his forehead against yours. “You’re going to keep me on my toes, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

“Probably,” you shrugged. “Or flat on your ass. One of the two.”

“Good thing I’m a doctor,” he murmured. Then he kissed you again.


End file.
